Page 65 of Set on You

“Conditions?”

His fingertips run a featherlight trail along my cheekbone, sweeping across my jaw and down my neck, tracing my collarbone. His green eyes are a kaleidoscope of want, need, desire, everything I want. “No touching,” he whispers in my ear as he sweeps my hair to one side, exposing my neck.

I’m hardly breathing. In fact, I’m practically immobile. I feel nothing above the waist, probably because every nerve between my legs has catapulted itself front and center.

His lips graze mine. “No kissing.”

I squeeze my legs together. I’m going to die. I’m going to spontaneously combust on this couch right now.

His hand traces straight down my front, over my breasts, down the hill of my stomach, circling around my inner thigh over my leggings, so close to where I want him. He leans closer, his breathing strained. “And no sex.”

“What?”

He smooths his finger over me exactly where I’m craving pressure. “No. No sex of any kind. No kissing. No touching.”

“You’ve already failed. You’re touching me right now,” I manage as his fingers continue to work their magic. When he presses harder, I nearly spin out of control. My vision tunnels and adelicious heat blooms everywhere. I shift slightly, desperate for that contact. Literally one more touch and I’ll be a goner, over the edge. Good night and goodbye forever, world.

And that’s when he dares to take his hands off me completely. It’s as if I’m inches away from the finish line and someone viciously grabs the back of my shirt, pulling me away from victory.

A wicked smile falls over his lips as he sits back from me. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing to me. “Starting now.”

I can barely see straight. I cough due to my bone-dry throat. I sound like a cat hacking up a furball. “You’re really committed.”

“I have to be if this is gonna work. Otherwise, we’ll end up hooking up long before August. I don’t want either of us to regret anything. You were right... about our families. If things didn’t work out, Flo would probably murder me in my sleep. We owe it to ourselves and everyone else to take things slow.” He’s completely right. If we were to continue on this trajectory, we’d hook up and my insecurities from Neil would resurface and probably swallow me whole.

Sure, I’m frustrated, like a coiled ball of yarn in desperate need of detangling. But I’m also entirely smitten. The fact that Scott is doing this demonstrates how much he truly cares. When I think about how outrageously amazing this man is, my entire body calms, as if it knows how perfectly in sync he is with me on every level. In fact, I’m struggling not to force him into marriage right here and now.

“You have no idea how much that means to me... I don’t know what to say.”

He smirks again, raising his brow. “You don’t have to say anything. Just show me how much it means to you. On August sixth.”

chapter twenty-one

3:20 P.M.—INSTAGRAM POST: “DO YOU FEEL LIKE A FRAUD IN YOUR OWN LIFE?” BYCURVYFITNESSCRYSTAL:

And no, I don’t mean fraud as in when you text your friends “omg dead dying lmfao rofl” with a completely straight face. I’m talking about serious thoughts, like “I got lucky,” “I don’t deserve my success,” “Someone is going to figure me out.”

These are real things I’ve thought to myself, and still think to myself occasionally. I’m only human. It all started way back when I exclusively wore neon workout clothes, listened to trap music, and hit my first couple thousand followers. I thought I was “unworthy,” especially compared to all the fit trainers out therewith ripped abs. These feelings of inadequacy doubled by the time I got my first big collaboration with Nike. They offered to send me a literal headband. An inch-wide pink piece of elastic band. And I cried and curled up in the fetal position, so sure they would call me out on being a phony.

Similarly, I’m always seeing my clients disregard their progress. As harmless as this may seem, you’re actually disregarding all of your hard work and holding yourself to impossibly high, unattainable standards.

But there is good news. Did you know most people (ahem, mostly high-achieving women) who feel impostor syndrome do so because they’re simply driven to succeed? If you’re feeling some type of way about your success, my advice to you is stop trying to chase perfect. No one wants perfect, because it doesn’t exist.

Comment byTrain.wreckk.girl: I love this. Impostor syndrome is all too real!

Comment bytrainermeg_0491: I think these thoughts all the time. You’re right. Perfection isn’t possible. We should really be easier on ourselves.

Comment byNoScRyan: You can’t call yourself high achieving when you’re a trainer and you’re overweight.

•••

SCOTT:Albus has a question for you.

Five seconds later, he sends a photo of Albus sitting upright in a human position with a tiny sign that readsDate tomorrow night?

If a goldendoodle named Albus asks you on a date, you kind of have to go.

CRYSTAL:Yes.

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